


The Hot And British

by ChutJeDors



Series: The Hot Series [2]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern AU, basically only the Dildo War has to be mentioned, beware the Dildo War, how did i even write this, i guess, i have so much love for mary and jim tho, the hot universe, there's not much tagging here is there? it's so short that nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChutJeDors/pseuds/ChutJeDors
Summary: Paul's mother is the master of guilt-tripping. John is the master of playing with cats. George is the master of throwing dildos accurately. John and Paul are just happy to spend their first Christmas together.Takes place right afterThe Hot Mechanic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got an ask on my [tumblr](www.chut-je-dors.tumblr.com) that went like this: _How was john and paul's first christmas together in the hot universe? what did they get each other? what horrid thing did george do?_ While I love that they immediately thought that George would do something terrible (ofc), I just couldn't keep my hands away from writing it. So here you have it, a spontaneous, quickly written one-shot where dialogue is crap and George's only meaning in life is to create terror. 
> 
> So, nothing different from my usual fics.

_“I really wished you’d come here,”_ Mary’s voice sounded way too defeated. Paul grimaced, looking over to John, who was waving a colourful feather toy in the air rather impassively. Creature was doing her best to catch it, but John had long ago mastered the skills that he needed in an order to defeat the cat. The toy was new; it had been Paul’s Christmas present for Creature.

“I know,” he sighed, his heart clenching painfully. The guilt he was feeling was huge. “But… there’s just so much going on. I’ll visit before New Year.”

 _“Our Christmas just isn’t the same without you…”_ there was a sniffing sound and Paul’s stomach dropped. He _knew_ this game, dammit! Mary was definitely guilt-tripping him, and didn’t give a damn that _Mike_ had been absent from Christmas dinners ever since he turned 16. (How, was another question. Paul didn’t know. Nobody knew. Mike just was never there.)

“Muuum,” he said, sounding anxious. John looked up, the dead-looking mask from his face melting into a softly arched eyebrow. Paul made a face and pointed at the phone.

_“Who is this Ringo again? Isn’t your flat quite small? How do you fit in there, all four of you? Already with John there…”_

“We fit excellently,” Paul said loudly, even though it was a lie. An outright, cruel lie. Ringo had moved in five days before, and it was _hell_. John and Paul couldn’t walk anywhere without being bombarded by sex; Just this morning Paul had got out of their room, walked into the hallway, and run into Ringo giving George something that looked like a rim job against the front door. At least John hadn’t needed an alarm to wake up, not with Paul’s screaming probably reaching all ten floors of the building. “Don’t worry about it. We are saving money.”

_“Mm… -Jim dear? Jim! Jim?! Take the- the turkey- Take it out, dear!”_

_“Is_ **_another_ ** _man moving in with Paul and George?_ _”_

_“Take the turkey out!”_

_“Please tell me Paul at least_ **_knows_ ** _this_ _‘Ringo’ in advance…”_

_“Jim!”_

_“What was the name of the other guy? That not-so-wise-decision -stranger-”_

_“The_ **_turkey_ ** _!!_ _”_

Paul moved the phone away from his ear, meeting John’s eyes with a suffering expression.

“They’re going at it again, about you,” he whispered, and John pressed his lips tightly together. He looked torn between being amused and depressed.

“Speaking of turkeys, what are we gonna eat for dinner?” John then asked, Creature managing to catch the feather now that John’s concentration was somewhere else. On Paul, Paul thought with satisfaction.

“None of us can really cook,” Paul shrugged, listening to Mary and Jim’s bickering with half an ear.

“I don’t think the food is that important. It’s the company,” John said and his expression turned soft as he looked at Paul. Paul’s stomach did funny flips and he was sure that his gaze had turned a notch too adoring to be acceptable.

Paul almost missed Mary’s voice returning loud into the phone, and he moved his hand slowly closer to his ear, still staring at John.

“Yeah?” he asked, his mouth feeling like it was full of porridge. John’s gaze had melted his brain.

_“I said, merry Christmas, and do have a fun day. I understand that things are at a mess over there… Moving is like that. I just don’t understand why… **Ringo** had to do it just now.”_

“Me neither,” Paul sighed. “But I stopped questioning him a while ago. Merry Christmas, Mum.”

He could hear Mary let out a soft sound that told that she was smiling, and after five more minutes Paul was able to put the phone down.

For a while he and John sat in complete silence, before John stood up, looking over the kitchen.

“Well,” he started, “better get on cooking. I think I could make up something.”

“Right,” Paul smiled. “I’ll go clean up the cardboard boxes from the living room.”

The day passed rather fast. Paul kept clear from George and Ringo, who were occupying their room with rather loud Christmas celebrations. The day before Paul had been met with the worst thing in the world; Last-minute Christmas shopping. He had went with Jane, his ex-girlfriend (and what did that say about him?), and somehow he had managed to live under the stress that finding a present for John had caused. Jane didn’t know about John yet; Paul hadn’t shared the news to _anyone,_ really. He had said that he had to find a present to a good friend, and Jane had immediately dragged him into a record shop.

“Why do you think he’d like a record?” Paul had asked, already thinking he’d been caught. Jane had just grinned and stated,

“Any good friend of yours likes music,” to which Paul had to agree.

He had got Daft Punk’s _Random Access Memories,_ something that he knew John would _love_. Just a few weeks before the man had been gushing about the French duo, and in John’s opinion “French music is weird as shit, but these guys do it _well_ ”. Paul felt like he had hit the jackpot with his present choice.

Now it was the evening, and Ringo’s stuff had been finally transferred successfully. They hadn’t had the time to get a Christmas tree, and the dinner ended up being eggs, bacon, and noodles, but it was rather fun anyway. George only tried to give a blowjob to Ringo once, and in overall as they got into the living room by the end of the day, Paul could say that it had been nice. If he forgot George’s existence, that is.

George turned to John and Paul with a glint in his eyes just as the two of them had sat down, John in the armchair, Paul into his lap because there was no way he would stay further away from the man than necessary on Christmas day. John hid partly behind Paul, and Paul looked at George with a wary gaze.

Until a bunch of dildos hit him straight in the face.

“Merry Christmas!!!” George yelled as Paul spluttered like a drowning fish, trying to crawl away from the dildos that now resided in his lap. John let out a small, desperate sound through his nose, and took one huge, pink toy into his hand.

He and Paul looked at it, looked at each other, and then started throwing the dildos towards George, who ducked behind the sofa with mad laughter. Ringo tried to avoid the sex toy shower, but didn’t manage, and then it was his turn to clutch at his nose as one rubber dick flew masterfully right into it.

“Shit, sorry Ringo-” John started, but then an XXL plastic penis hit him square between his eyes, and the Dildo War was on.

An hour later Paul and John pulled the bedroom door closed, breathless from laughing and screaming, eyes clear from the terrors they’d seen.

“I guess it’ll be always like this, then,” John said in a slightly shaking voice, supporting his weight on his knees, doubling over. Paul sighed and nodded, slumping against the door.

“It has always been. I don’t know what made me choose to live with George.”

John smiled at him then, straightening himself, before the man draped himself over Paul.

“If you hadn’t, I’d had never got to know you. So far, this is the best Christmas of my life.”

Paul grimaced and then started laughing.

“God, you’ve been miserable till now, if this is the best one.”

John just smiled at him, looking strangely wistful.

“Maybe I just haven’t realised it before,” he said, his voice going soft, and Paul was overtaken by feelings.

“I got you a present,” he blurted out, his trail of thought hitting a dead end. John raised an eyebrow.

“Me too,” his face broke into a grin and he shuffled over to a pile of clothes. He lifted them away and there, under them, was a small wrapped present.

“Seriously?” Paul asked, a smile tugging at his lips. John started giggling.

“I figured you wouldn’t find it here.”

Paul went over to the table, opened the drawer that contained all of his useless papers. He dug around a bit and then straightened his back, with a CD-shaped present in his hand. John looked over-excited, already guessing that Paul’s gift contained music.

They handed over the packets at the same time, grinning at each other earnestly. Paul sat on the bed, tearing away the paper in almost one go.

He stared, and started laughing.

It was a tea mug that had the UK flag printed on it, with words _‘I LIKE MY TEA LIKE I LIKE MY MEN - HOT AND BRITISH’_.

“Really??” he chortled, holding onto the mug for dear life so he wouldn’t drop it. “I _love_ it!!”

John laughed, looking relieved and pleased.

“I figured,” he said with a really posh accent, winked and ran a hand over his side, striking a pose that was probably supposed to be flirty, but was ruined by John’s stupid face. Paul laughed even harder, falling into a lying position on the bed.

While he was collecting himself, John opened his present, and let out a delighted sound.

“Gear!” he exclaimed, and then jumped on Paul. Paul laughed, trying to roll away from the walrus that was posing as his boyfriend, but failed. He felt relief as well, although he had been quite sure that John would like the album. Paul himself wanted to listen to it as well.

That night, when they got into bed, listening to George and Ringo’s “wonderful Christmas sex”, Paul squeezed John with warmth in his chest, feeling like he could drown into the feeling. For what it was worth, this Christmas would definitely get 10/10 from both of them.

 

***~THE END~***

**Author's Note:**

> The HHT will be updated soon! [Here is why it might take some more time than usual](http://chut-je-dors.tumblr.com/post/158960652844/psa).
> 
> I considered naming this "the hot dildo war" but i decided otherwise. war is bad. tea mugs, on the other hand, are not. also, when one says "the hot and british", it can be thought as "the hot and british people in this fic", which they totally are. accurate fic names are accurate.


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